


Texting, Texting.  One, Two, Three.

by emocezi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, M/M, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-19
Updated: 2011-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:56:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emocezi/pseuds/emocezi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek had the bad habit of stealing Stiles' phone every time he came over.  He didn't have one of his own, and Stiles had never seen a problem with him shooting off a text to someone as long as he didn't rack up minutes or download games...or porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Texting, Texting.  One, Two, Three.

Derek had the bad habit of stealing Stiles' phone every time he came over. He didn't have one of his own, and Stiles had never seen a problem with him shooting off a text to someone as long as he didn't rack up minutes or download games...or porn.

He'd been doing it for close to three months when Stiles first noticed something was weird. Normally Derek would text the person he needed to contact, and jump back out the window. Simple, elegent even.

But he'd been steadily texting someone for the past ten minutes, and his expresson was going from 'neutral' to 'pissed' extremely fast. Add in the fact that Derek was starting to squeeze his phone, and Stiles decided to take immediate action to save his baby from certain destruction. Scott had told him about Derek's tendencies to smash things he found distracting and annoying.

"So hey Derek. Buddy. Pal o'mine. Who're you texting there?"

"Jackson."

"...Why are you texting Jackson? With my phone?"

"He was texting you."

"Oh yeah, he does that some...times. Did you just growl at me?"

"No."

"Oooookay. I should...just...get...that...back." He edged forward with every word, intent on snatching the phone from Derek's hands and running out the door and down the stairs as fast as he could go.

The moment his fingers touched the casing on his iPhone, Derek grabbed his wrist. And in a move that had Stiles' world revolving, had flipped him onto the mattress and pinned him, with the entire rock hard, solid length of his body.

And he kept texting.

Texting Jackson.

From Stiles' phone.

From there it just seemed logical to attempt another conversation, if only to try and keep completely normal biological functions to a minimum.

"What's Jackson saying?"

"He doesn't understand why you don't want to see Ninja Assassin with him tomorrow because you've been talking about wanting to see the movie since last year."

"....YOU TOLD JACKSON I DIDN'T WANT TO SEE NINJA ASSASSIN?!?!?!"

"Not with him."

"Oh my GOD. IT'S NINJA ASSASSIN DEREK. YOU COULD TAKE ME AND I WOULDN'T CARE."

"..."

"..."

Derek's eyes narrowed to slits and Stiles clamped his lips together, hard. That thing with the filter between his brain and his mouth, he just didn't have one. Stupid ADHD.

"So see, what I meant by that was-"

"I'll take you."

"Huh?"

"Stop texting Jackson."

"Why? I mean isn't he pack now. Cause you bit him, and he's kinda even more of a whiney bitch then he was before he was a werewolf, no pun intended, but anyway, my point was-"

"He's an omega."

"...I uh...I kinda thought I was the omega."

"Why?" Derek cocked his head to the side and Stiles could feel his face starting to heat up under all that intense scrutiny.

"I..don't know?" He squeaked the last word. "I'm the only human?"

"Jackson is still terrified of his own shadow. You held your own against Peter. Twice."

"Yeah but..so what does that make me then?" Stiles' brain decided now would be a good time to start another topic, blindly leading his mouth in trouble, yet again. His mouth was such a useless sheep.

"I haven't decided yet." Derek wore a contemplative look, staring at Stiles' mouth for several long seconds before the phone beeped and his attention snapped back towards it. "I have to go." He was on his feet in seconds, tossing Stiles' phone onto the bed.

Derek looked back, on the verge of climbing out the window and he nodded at Stiles, who had pushed himself up onto his elbows and was staring at him like he'd grown two heads.

"I'll pick you up at five tomorrow for the movie. Wear something nice."

"Dress up? Come on dude, it's not like it's a date. Right. Derek? It's not a date right? GET BACK HERE YOU MANGY, FLEA INFESTED, EXCUSE FOR A WOLF."

Stiles slumped against his window frame when the sound of Derek's car door slamming cut through the crisp night air.

"Fucking wolves."


End file.
